


Take Me to Wyoming

by notallbees



Series: Fanception: We need to go deeper [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, Dirty Talk, Dom Bucky Barnes, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sub Steve Rogers, Top Bucky Barnes, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:57:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2379083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Steve comes home in a bad mood. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last, but it’s a pretty monumental bad mood, even for him. He blows in like a summer storm, slamming the door behind him and knocking a picture off the wall. He scowls at Bucky next, like <strong>he’s</strong> somehow responsible for the picture. Bucky opens his mouth to say something, but Steve doesn’t even let him get that far.</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>  <em>“I ain’t in the mood, Buck,” he snaps, holding his hand up. “Don’t even start.”</em></p><p> </p><p>Bucky's got years of practise dealing with Steve's bad moods, and he's got his own way of handling it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Me to Wyoming

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is ostensibly by Bucky Barnes from [The Fourth Wall Isn't A Real Wall At All](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2357093), but he had a little help from me. Shhh, don't tell Steeb.
> 
> (also, let's bear in mind that Bucky sent Steve this fic while fully aware that Steve was on a date with another guy. FLIRTING 101 - STAKE YOUR CLAIM)

Steve comes home in a bad mood. It’s not the first time, won’t be the last, but it’s a pretty monumental bad mood, even for him. He blows in like a summer storm, slamming the door behind him and knocking a picture off the wall. He scowls at Bucky next, like _he’s_ somehow responsible for the picture. Bucky opens his mouth to say something, but Steve doesn’t even let him get that far.

“I ain’t in the mood, Buck,” he snaps, holding his hand up. “Don’t even start.”

Bucky frowns, stung. He’d only meant to make light of it, to offer Steve some coffee to settle his nerves, and he doesn’t like getting clawed for his troubles when he’s only trying to pet. “Suit yourself,” he says quietly, and goes back to shining his shoes on the table, contenting himself with the smell of cracked polish and the rustle of newsprint.

Steve disappears into the bedroom, and Bucky hears him knocking around for a few minutes. Luckily enough there’s not much to break in there. He comes out a little while later, still wearing his work clothes and a vicious scowl. He walks over to the kitchen bench and slams a saucepan on the stove.

“Steve.”

“I said don’t-”

“Stop it.” Bucky gets to his feet and walks up behind Steve, watches the tension go solid in his shoulders. He wipes his hands on his undershirt, then pulls Steve’s suspenders off, sliding them down over his skinny arms.

“Buck, I ain’t in the mood,” Steve mutters, looking to one side with his bottom lip pouting. He looks like a dumb kid who’s been told off.

“I ain’t interested,” Bucky says in a low voice, pulling Steve’s shirt out of his pants. “I don’t wanna hear what happened, I don’t care. I just want you to learn some fuckin’ respect when you walk in that door.”

He hears the catch of breath in Steve’s throat, the way his pigeon chest jumps. “My house too, Bucky.”

“Yeah well tonight you’re gonna behave.”

Steve shakes his head minutely, and Bucky gets this feral grin on his face. He can’t deny he enjoys it when Steve makes his job harder for him. He unfastens the top three buttons of Steve’s shirt, then grabs the fraying hem and yanks it up, over his head. Steve struggles, but not enough to stop him getting it off. Bucky’s hands go around his skinny chest and he drops his head to gnaw at the point where Steve’s shoulder meets his neck.

"Get your paws off me," Steve growls, struggling against him. Bucky just clings on tighter.

"You want me to put you over my knee? Shine your little rear end until it glows?"

Steve shudders hard. "No, Buck-"

"Then behave yourself," he snaps. Bucky slides one hand over Steve's chest and pinches a flat little nipple with his thumb and forefinger. Steve moans and pushes back against him, almost hard enough to buck him off. Bucky seizes him by his upper arms, holding him hard enough to bruise, but Steve doesn't complain about it. "You think I won't do it?"

"Please, Buck-" Steve mutters. Bucky huffs out a breath on the back of his neck and Steve shivers.

"Please what?"

But Steve isn't ready to roll over just yet. He jerks in Bucky's grasp, trying to jab him with an elbow. "Dammit Bucky," he hisses, "I ain't a kid."

"No, you're not," Bucky agrees. "So you're gonna take it like a man, aintcha?" Steve moans but he stops struggling. "Take your pants off."

Slowly, Steve does as he's told, loosening his belt and then unfastening his pants. He hesitates then, and Bucky brushes the hair off the back of his neck to kiss the damp skin there. "You need a haircut," he mutters. "Go on, take 'em off."

Steve pushes them down his thighs, then bends to pull them all the way off, pushing his ass back deliberately against Bucky. Moving to one side, Bucky gives it a smack, and Steve yelps.

"Drawers too, Stevie, c'mon," he says. "I ain't got all night." It's a damn lie, and Steve's gotta know it; Bucky's got all the time in the world for Steve.

Steve's fingers curl into the cotton of his loose shorts, and Bucky watches his hands make fists for a second before he pulls them down, pink little cheeks where Bucky slapped him.

"Fine little peach ya got there, Rogers," Bucky mutters, cupping his palm around it. "You steal it from a pretty dame?"

"Quit yappin’," Steve growls, turning around in his arms. "I ain't givin' you a show just for the conversation."

"Maybe I like a little conversation when I see a show with my fella."

Steve groans and grabs for his shirt. "Would you can it and stick it in me already?"

That's the last straw for Bucky. He knocks Steve's hands away and bends forward to put him over his shoulder. "I warned you to ask nice!" he snaps, hauling Steve into the air and ignoring his squawk of protest. "Now I've lost my temper."

"Bucky! Put me down, damn you!"

"Hush," Bucky says harshly. He grabs Steve's arms to stop him flailing and dumps him down on the bed, careful not to hurt him. "Get down there." He reaches around to fetch the Vaseline from under Steve's pillow, and Steve takes advantage of the distraction to scramble off the bed, making a dash for the other room again.

Bucky chases him, a grin stealing onto his face, because if Steve's making a game of it, it means he's not sore at Bucky, not _really_. He turns a chair over, throwing it in Bucky's path, but he dodges it just in time to grab Steve's wrist and pin him against the table.

"Don't you want it?" Bucky snarls, hauling Steve's skinny body against his own, pressing his ass against the edge of the table. He cradles Steve's head with his left hand, tips it sideways to kiss his neck, soft. "Why're you turnin' tail on me, huh?"

"Thought that was the point," Steve mutters, pushing back, turning his wicked gaze upwards.

"Turn around then." Bucky slides his hands down to Steve's bare hips, gropes at his pretty little backside. "Lemme see it."

Steve looks up at him defiantly, blue eyes bright and challenging. Slowly, he turns around, setting his hands on the tabletop. He already has a smear of black polish on his ass. Bucky groans and gives it another good smack, before reaching past him to knock his shoes off the table and onto the floor. Steve looks over his shoulder, horrified. "Buck!" he says, eyes wide. "What'd you do that for?"

"You can neaten 'em up for me later," Bucky says carelessly, wrapping one arm around his waist. He slides the other up Steve's spine, pressing flat to his skin, rucking up his undershirt. Steve whines and rocks back against him, grinding into Bucky's groin.

"Guess I could do that, if you treat me nice."

Bucky's hand trails back down again, palm rubbing over Steve's ass for a moment before he slides his fingers in towards the tempting cleft of it. "Maybe if you quit yelling fit to bring the whole neighborhood down on us."

"Why?" Steve mutters, "think they'd wanna join in?"

Bucky laughs, sharp and surprised, and gives Steve's backside another smack for talking back. "I'd say that smart mouth'll get you in trouble, but I've seen it happen a hundred times before."

Steve rolls his hips. "It's workin' now, ain't it?"

He slides his arm out from under Steve and pushes him down flush against the table, his face on the crackling newsprint. They used to sell papers, when the opportunity was there. Steve had a beat and Bucky would take it over when he was too sick to stand in the cold and the smoke. Steve's a lot stronger than he used to be, clawing his way out of a laundry list of childhood illnesses with the determination of an alley cat down to its last couple of lives, but he still gets floored by a cold or a fever. Bucky knows he ain't delicate though, and he can take one hell of a beating. He likes Bucky to prove it now and then.

"Gimme that slick," he says, gesturing to where he dropped the tin on the table when he caught hold of Steve. Steve passes it up, and he turns his head to glance up at Bucky from where his face is mashed against the tabletop. "Stay," Bucky says firmly, laying his palm flat on Steve's back.

"What am I, a dog?"

"Sure, Fido, just keep still."

Steve huffs, but he doesn't move, not even to make himself comfortable. Bucky slicks up his fingers and stretches Steve's ass wide with his other hand. He brushes his fingertips over Steve's tight hole and feels him jerk under the touch, a quiet noise stumbling from his throat.

"That okay, puppy dog?"

Steve snickers. "You're a dirty man, Barnes."

"Soon will be," Bucky promises, pushing in with the end of his thumb. Steve whimpers and bucks up against him. "Hey," he says quietly, running his hand up Steve's back again. "Remember in school when we had to recite and spell all the states in alphabetical order?"

Steve groans. "Why would you remind me?"

"Tell you what." Bucky pulls his thumb out and slides one finger all the way in, listens to Steve's quiet gasp. "You make it to Wyoming, _then_ I'll stick it in you."

" _What_ ," Steve hisses, turning to glare at Bucky over his shoulder. "Are you crazy? No way!"

"You don't hafta spell 'em."

"Oh because _that_ makes it less of a chore," Steve grumbles. Bucky slides his finger in and out a few more times before pulling right out and teasing at his hole. "Aw jeez." Steve voice comes out a little labored, and Bucky smirks. "Okay, okay, uh. Alabama-"

Bucky twists two fingers into Steve in swift, slick motion, and the way Steve writhes and groans makes him moan to see it. "Keep going," he says, still keeping Steve pinned flat to the table as he begins to recite. He falters every now and then, when he forgets what comes next and has to scrabble for the answer, or when Bucky draws a gasp out of him instead of a state name. Bucky's fingers work in and out, stretching him and watching as the hot flesh pushes and pulls around his fingers. "God, that's beautiful," he says, as Steve reaches Iowa.

Steve was the only one in their class who could recite all fifty states from start to end when he was ten years old; he and Bucky practised for hours, but Steve always had a better memory for details like that.

"Cute as a bug's ear you are, Stevie."

Steve laughs breathlessly. "You got a funny idea of cute – shit, where was I, uh-"

"Iowa," Bucky prompts, licking his lower lip.

"Okay, okay," Steve whispers. "Uh, Kansas?"

"Uh huh, good boy, keep on going."

"Jesus, uh – Kentucky, Louisiana-"

Bucky slips another finger in carefully, three curled together now and fucking into Steve. It always seems impossible, no way he'll fit inside Steve, no space for him in that little body, but Steve always has more than enough room for Bucky.

"Aw jeez – oh, oh _God_ , God, Bucky –shit."

"Minnesota," Bucky prompts.

"Uh huh, Minnesota. Missou – no, Mississippi – oh shit, Buck, please, _please_ don't make me wait."

Bucky doesn't reply, but he moves his hand from Steve's back to deliver a stinging smack to his left buttock. Steve moans loudly, choking on New Hampshire. He almost misses New Mexico, and Bucky gives him another smack when he remembers it. Truth is, Bucky wouldn't have a clue if Steve got them all right or not. "I got it, I got it," Steve whimpers, breathing hard. "New York, North Carolina, North Dako - oh, _oh_ , Bucky."

Bucky sets him a nice steady rhythm while he runs shakily through to South Dakota, then he reaches under Steve's belly to touch his prick, grasping it loosely in his left hand.

"T – t – Tennessee," Steve moans, pushing back against him. "Texas – fuck me, _fuck_ me, _Utah_ \- augh-"

"C'mon babydoll," Bucky whispers, leaning over to kiss the back of his neck, following it down his spine, hot mouth chasing the sweat on his skin. "C'mon Stevie, c'mon honey, just a little more-"

"Sh - _shit_ , Vermont? Uh, uh – Virginia, West - _fuck_ , Washing – oh _fuck_ , Bucky I can't – I'm gonna –"

"Not until you finish."

"Shit, I hate you, I hate you so much." Steve takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Washington – West Virginia, Wyoming."

As he yells the last word, Bucky grips Steve's dick harder and feels him shudder and spill, hot and sluggish over his fist. "That's it, babydoll," Bucky whispers. He leans over Steve again and kisses the back of his neck, the sweaty hair at his nape, the warm damp spot behind his right ear. "That was perfect," he says. He's doesn't tell Steve that he missed out Wisconsin. "So good to me, sugar, so good to your fella."

Steve moans and nuzzles into him. Bucky straightens up, wipes his hand on Steve's damp undershirt and unfastens his pants enough to pull his dick out and slick it up. Steve is still shivering with aftershocks, his throat gone hoarse with begging.

"You ready?"

Steve just nods vigorously. Bucky pulls him back by his hips and pushes slowly into him. "Aw, shit, Bucky, yeah-"

He tries to reach back, to grab Bucky and pull him closer. Bucky tuts. He takes hold of Steve's forearms and pulls them together at the small of his back, pinning him firmly in place. Steve lets out a sob.

"Bucky-"

"You're gonna behave, remember?"

Steve nods, and Bucky reaches up with his left hand to brush the sweaty hair off Steve's forehead. "You're doing so good, such a sweet little cookie, gimme a smile honey, you know what you do to me with a smile from that pretty mouth?"

The shit talk's finally been shaken out of him, and Steve giggles and turns a sly look on Bucky. "You're full of shit, Barnes," he says, but his face is soft and adoring, and Bucky's heart feels full to bursting. He nuzzles into the touch of Bucky's sticky palm like a kitten, warm from the sun.

"That's not true, pussycat," he says gently, rubbing his thumb over Steve's pink mouth. "I only tell you the god's honest truth."

Steve just smiles harder and wriggles underneath him, getting comfortable. "Thanks for taking care of me, Buck," he whispers.

Bucky draws out of him long and slow, then pushes back in again, feeling Steve's agonized moan of pleasure slip right down his spine. He's already shuddering, well halfway to blowing his top, and the way Steve is pulsing around him, tightening and releasing, makes him feel wild. He tightens his grip on Steve's arms, wrenching them up so far it _must_ be hurting, but Steve doesn't say a damn word, just keeps on moaning and begging for more like it's all he needs to go on living. If that were the case, Bucky would do it every minute he could, but in the meantime he'll do it every time Steve needs to get out of his noisy head for an hour. Hell, if Steve asked, he'd bend over and take it himself. He wouldn't even hesitate.

"Can hear you thinkin'," Steve murmurs, shifting under him and grunting appreciatively when he finds himself unable to move. "Thought you were gonna give it to me good, make me feel it for the rest of the week-"

"Christ, Steve-"

"Sitting in church on Sunday and still feeling you inside me-"

"God damn you," Bucky moans, his movements going jerky. He slaps Steve's thigh. "You don't even go to church."

"I might just for the look on your face," Steve gasps, "knowing my ass is bright red in my Sunday best-"

"Oh, hell," Bucky groans, slamming his hips in hard. He loses the ability to make words as his hips falter. He spreads his feet, giving himself better leverage, and digs his fingers into Steve's wrists as he fucks in harder.

Steve whines long and low, trying to pull his arms free from Bucky's grip and failing. "C'mon," he moans, "give it to me Bucky, c'mon-"

Bucky releases Steve, ignoring his whine of protest, and hooks his forearms up under Steve's shoulders, lifting him up and holding him up while he fucks into him. Steve cries out and turns to bite down on Bucky's fist to stifle it. Bucky chokes back a sob as he spills inside Steve, slowing to a hard, lazy rhythm while Steve whimpers and shakes against him.

"Shit, shit, Stevie-" Bucky moans, sliding his arms around Steve to crush him tight against his chest. "Oh god, Stevie."

He carefully sets Steve down and tries to get his own pants off without staining them. Luckily his underwear catches most of the mess. "Hang on," he says, touching Steve's back, caressing the curve of his little ass. "I'll clean us up."

Steve waits patiently, propped against the table, while Bucky strips off his shirt and pants and then his underwear, and fetches a wet cloth. He grabs the hem of Steve's undershirt and pulls it up over his head, then slips an arm around his chest to pull him back against his own body. "You okay, Stevie?"

"Mmm," Steve moans, head lolling against Bucky's shoulder. "Gotta come home in a bad mood more often."

Bucky laughs and gives him a squeeze. "You better not, I got my hands full as it is."

Steve just shrugs, but he makes soft, contented sounds as Bucky gently wipes him down, running the flannel over his face and the back of his neck, before dropping down to wipe his stomach and thighs, and between his legs. Steve turns his face to nuzzle into Bucky's neck, mouth making abstract shapes against his skin and muscle.

"You're aces, Bucky."

Bucky grins and picks him up. Steve squawks again as he's hauled into the air, but it's followed by a burst of laughter as Bucky drags him over to the bed and pulls him down to huddle under the sheets. "And you got a temper like a mean old cat," Bucky tells him, stroking through Steve's hair. He leans in and kisses his eyebrow, then his cheekbone. Steve's smile goes shy and he starts to turn his head away. Bucky catches his chin and kisses him gently. "But I wouldn't trade you."

Steve snorts. "You wouldn't get much anyway."

"You could offer me a million dollars for your skinny hide and I wouldn't take it."

"Not even a million?" Steve asks, eyebrow raised.

"Well, maybe a million," Bucky says, grinning.

Steve rolls his eyes, then he jabs his fingers into Bucky's ribs, because he's a damn _cheat_ and he fights dirty. They wrestle and tickle and laugh and eventually they fuck again, slow and easy and with all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> (fyi there were actually only 48 states at this point in history, Alaska and Hawaii joined in the 50s *shrug* i dun fucked up :D)


End file.
